Long Weekend Shorts

Dangling legs over the bow of the Vesper II, head tucked under the Genoa sail to watch the sun throw shards of broken glass across the churning sea.

A distant boat lifting wing-on-wing; full sails blooming on either side of the vessel as it runs before the wind across a path of light.

The skin-prickling chill of 61-degree spray as we motor through the rolling wake of a larger boat in our twelve foot dinghy on a blistering Sunday.

Two full glasses of dry red wine, cushioned by cloth place mats on a glass patio table, in front of a granite rock garden bloated with yawning day lilies.

A breath of wind stroking with restful fingers as it carries us through an outdoor supper without mosquitoes.

Holiday-morning-road quiet in front of our house; coffee in open-window air and the occasional pong of a nautical wind chime at the back of the yard as it sings a tale of the sea.

Left-over blueberry bread pudding floating in a swirl of almond cream sauce for breakfast.